Chapter 439: How Many Men Waste a Lifetime

That day passed without further words. Early the next morning, Zhu Junli came to the government office and reported that there was indeed a Temple of Emperor Guangwu south of the city, and for that reason he had come specially to invite Sun Jian to travel into the mountains south of the city… In the end, Zhu Zhi’s action was because he had sensed that Sun Jian was weighed down with heavy cares, and he feared that Sun Wentai might, as he had back in Chen Commandery, fail to see his way through and simply fall ill from bottled-up frustration.

Fortunately, Sun Wentai also remembered this matter and agreed readily enough. Only, considering that someone needed to maintain order in the city, he instead left Zhu Zhi behind to hold the fort, took Zu Mao and twenty or thirty riders, and headed south of the city to seek out the Temple of Emperor Guangwu.

It was late summer, and the landscape outside the city was serene and pleasing, a full sweep of emerald green, truly like a sea of blue-green waves.

Sun Jian led his several dozen close guard riders galloping into the hills, and for a time his heart felt clear and his spirit soared. Moreover, with this victory, while seizing Nanyang he had in fact also swept away the obstacles blocking entry into Jianghan, so future matters would naturally fall into place… With the greater situation before him, fine scenery all around, riding at full gallop to pay respects at the temple of a sage emperor, the tangled thoughts that had weighed on his heart since Jiang Qin’s death gradually faded.

And following the directions given by passersby, the several dozen riders entered a mountain, passed through several valley mouths, and caught a distant glimpse of eaves half-hidden behind green trees in a valley — and felt all the more that this journey was not made in vain.

Even more delightful, as the several dozen riders cantered lightly up to the valley itself, before they had even rounded the bend to see the temple and signs of habitation, they first heard the sound of women singing drifting out from within the valley, ringing through the mountain forest. The singing was plaintive and melancholy, yet with more than one voice it lessened the sorrow somewhat; moreover, it had a distinct rhythm, and heard at this moment, it was truly exquisite.

It went exactly thus: “I am but a drifting soul, ill-fated, having known bitter hardship,

In the chaos of separation I met my lord, grateful for your kindness, chance-met as duckweed on the water.

My lord loved a moment’s joy, making the beacon fires our happy hour,

With tears I toast my lord’s long life, the stains of wine masking the dust of the campaign.”

“This is about a man going off to war, finding a lovely woman on the battlefield, then the man going off to war again, and the woman’s plaintive song!” Sun Jian listened a few times and could not help laughing aloud on horseback.

But Zu Mao was a crude fellow, and hearing this he spurred his horse forward and shouted loudly across the bend: “You women there — could it be your husbands are away from home and you’re pining for a man?”

At these words, the women on the other side were clearly thrown into panic and disarray, and after a flurry of squawking and scrambling, not a trace of singing remained.

Sun Jian could not help but fume with anger, almost wanting to ride forward and flog the wretch to death with his riding crop.

Seeing this, Zu Mao knew he had once again made his lord unhappy, and could only say sheepishly: “My lord, do not take offense — who would have thought these women would be so easily frightened…”

“That remark from this general under Sun Polu’s command cannot but make one sigh,” at that moment, from the place where the singing had come, a man’s voice, somewhat advanced in years, suddenly rang out. “In these chaotic times, a man weds and goes off to war, never to return. As it is said, ‘At fifteen I went with the army to war, at eighty I first made my way home; on the road I met a man from my village, and asked who was left in my house…’ Where have the people of his household gone? His parents, naturally, have frozen or starved to death; his wife and daughters, naturally, have been seized by marauding soldiers. This truth — if others do not know it, can it be that even the men under Sun Polu do not know it?”

Sun Wentai stood stunned where he was, but Zu Mao, hearing this, paid no heed to the content of the words. Merely curious, he rode first into the valley, and then could not help laughing aloud again on horseback: “You there — though you are somewhat older, you are still a full seven-foot man. How is it you are here picking mulberries like a woman? A great man doing women’s work — it’s truly laughable!”

“This general has misread the situation…” the man’s voice continued. “It is simply that war follows upon war, and grain is precious, so I am here specially picking mulberries to stave off hunger, that is all. However, what the general says about picking mulberries is also true. If you had come here in late spring, you would surely have seen me here picking mulberry leaves with the women to feed the silkworms; and if you come when the frost sets in after autumn, you will surely see me here picking autumn mulberries. Only, in these chaotic times, the men follow the army to war and the women guard the home. They must both plow and sow and pick and weave hemp, and must also meet corvée labor demands and guard against the calamity of soldiers. Where is there any ‘men plow, women weave’? As for me, a man, since I have evaded the corvée, I do what little I can — what is there to laugh at?”

Sun Jian followed the voice and rode into the valley, where he saw a man in a tall cap and hempen robes, with a long beard and fine whiskers, earnestly picking mulberries in a mulberry grove at the valley mouth. He looked to be about forty or fifty years old, practically half an old man. On the ground within the grove were also quite a few bamboo baskets and hemp sacks, as well as trampled mulberries — a scene of some disarray, clearly left behind when the women, frightened by Zu Mao, had fled in haste.

“Get out. Take everyone down to that pavilion at the foot of the mountain and wait for me,” Sun Jian said slowly, his expression showing neither pleasure nor anger.

On the other side, Zu Darong had just been about to open his mouth to mock again, but hearing these words, and knowing Sun Jian’s temper well, he understood that his lord was truly angry. Not daring to utter another word, he turned his horse in disarray and led the men down the mountain.

Once Zu Mao had left, Sun Jian dismounted, stepped forward, and cupped his hands slightly: “My subordinate officer was crude and discourteous, disturbing you, sir, and the common folk here.”

“It is no matter.” The man continued picking mulberries as usual. “The people of Nanyang have known for four years now that the men under Sun Polu are skilled at killing. Back then, seeing your subordinate, they would have feared for their very lives. Now he is merely crude, and at worst they will go hungry tonight for lack of mulberries — this is already truly something to be glad for. Besides, with the troops of General of the Rear Yuan Gonglu having set the precedent, the common folk might even secretly remark that Sun Polu runs a strict and disciplined army!”

Sun Jian laughed sheepishly: “I have not yet heard your name, sir?”

“A man of Yangzhai in Yingchuan… Sima Hui, courtesy name Decao.” The man continued earnestly picking mulberries.

“I have heard your name, sir,” Sun Jian said thoughtfully. “Back during the campaign against Dong Zhuo, when I was encamped in Yingchuan, the local officials recommended you to me… I never thought to find you here.”

“Merely fleeing the calamity of war,” Sima Hui sighed. “At the time, seeing the scholars and common folk of Yingchuan dying and scattered, while I myself could remain safe for a while, I thought that leaving Yingchuan and coming here to the Bi River would be enough. I never imagined that now even here I cannot escape the fighting.”

“The realm is in chaos, and there is no place without war. Yingchuan and Nanyang are the very heart of the Central Plains, a battleground on all sides — how could you possibly escape the fighting?” Sun Jian laughed. “But you, sir… with such talent and virtue, why not rise to meet the difficulty, take the initiative to seek peace for the realm, instead of hiding away here for a time?”

“My nature is simply thus,” Sima Hui finally stopped picking and stood with his hands clasped. “For someone like you, General, galloping freely at full speed may be very exhilarating, but once you lose your way, you may instead stray onto the wrong path. I, on the other hand, am the sort who would rather not move at all than take a single wrong step!”

“So that is how it is,” Sun Wentai said pensively. “But, Master Decao… if you remain standing still, how can you possibly know that those who gallop far ahead have strayed onto the wrong path?”

“I do not know — and until the day we reach the end, no one under Heaven knows either,” Sima Hui answered calmly. “However, the current situation is like a hundred riders racing ahead, each following their own course. Those riding in front have riders all around them, before and behind, left and right, and at full gallop it is even harder to discern their own position. But someone like me, who remains where he is, can at the very least see clearly whether the rumps of those riders’ horses are tilting off course… Wouldn’t you agree? For example, General Sun, if you have not come here on my account, then you must have come for the Temple of Emperor Guangwu nearby, is that not so?”

“That is correct…”

“Then this I can state with certainty: you, General, have strayed onto the wrong path,” Sima Hui finally laughed. “This valley here is a place where people fleeing the flames of war have gathered to live. To go to the Temple of Emperor Guangwu, you must turn in at the previous valley mouth on the road up the mountain…”

Sun Jian was briefly taken aback, then could not help but smile wryly: “What you say, sir, is entirely correct — it is I who was ignorant.”

Sima Hui stood with clasped hands, smiling without speaking. Seeing this, Sun Jian felt there was nothing more to say and prepared to lead his horse out of the valley to seek the Temple of Emperor Guangwu.

But just at that moment, the man behind him suddenly asked again: “Does Sun Polu know the origin of that song just now?”

Sun Jian, still leading his horse, turned around and slowly shook his head.

“That song is called ‘The Song of the Yu River.’ It is said that it came over from Wuguan last year. The story goes that Cao Mengde went to Chang’an to pay his respects to the Son of Heaven, and then, to preserve himself, he went at once, as an old friend of the General of the Guards, to pay a visit to the General of the Guards’ mother, the Elder Lady Gongsun, and lodged at the General of the Guards’ residence. And this very melody was composed by the Elder Lady Gongsun herself, who taught it to the singing girls of the household to perform especially for Cao Mengde…”

“There was such an affair?” Sun Jian’s interest was greatly piqued.

“Not only that — there is also talk in Chang’an that Cao Mengde, in idle conversation, mentioned that Sun Polu’s family, wife and children, had previously all been in his residence, while you fought alone on the Yu River, and thus this song came to be…” At this point, Sima Hui could not help shaking his head. “In other words, this song, throughout the Guanzhong and Nanyang regions, is secretly discussed by scholars and commoners alike as being about Sun Polu’s own family, and the woman in the song is none other than your honored wife, Lady Wu.”

Sun Jian shook his head repeatedly: “That is pure nonsense… I do believe my wife worries when I go to war, but the opening lines clearly speak of one who admits her fate is bitter and has encountered calamity — there is even a hint of resentment at being forced. How could that be my wife?”

“Does that not fit perfectly?” Sima Hui spread his hands. “Everyone under Heaven knows that Sun Polu’s Lady Wu was taken by force!”

Sun Jian’s expression changed abruptly. He let go of the reins, put his hand on his saber, and strode forward: “You old wretch — do you think I dare not kill?”

“Why does the General not go and kill Cao Mengde and the Elder Lady Gongsun instead, rather than venting your anger on one who merely speaks the truth?” Sima Hui’s expression remained unchanged. “Moreover, the General once, in a fit of rage, killed a youth, and for that was forced to fight with all his might, so that tens of thousands clashed in battle on the Yu River, and the blood flowed enough to float shields. How could you now, in another fit of rage, kill an old man? If you did, then you, General, would truly be beyond saving!”

“Your words are cryptic and elusive — what exactly do you mean?!” Sun Jian gripped his saber in fury and demanded. “Since you know my origins so well, you naturally know I have read little. If you have insights, speak them plainly! If you have grievances, voice them directly! To continue like this benefits neither of us!”

“It is I who was wrong,” Sima Hui nodded as if suddenly understanding. “To put it plainly, meeting by chance on the road and guessing it was Sun Polu, I could not help but feel sorry for you, General, and so I spoke a few words too many… That is all!”

“Sorry for me about what?” Sun Jian sneered, but in the end released his grip on the saber. “I have defeated Lü Bu, Liu Pan, Cai Mao, and Huang Zhong, and now I have just slain Huang Zu and Ji Ling. After a brief rest, I will march south to Jiangxia and capture Yuan Shu… The Central Plains are in my grasp, and the greater situation of the realm is in my grasp. And you, a rustic fellow from the hills, presume to feel sorry for me?”

“Why must the General deceive himself?” Hearing this, Sima Hui lowered his head and picked up his bamboo basket of mulberries, then stepped forward several paces holding it. “If the realm could be won by blade and soldier alone, then why did Emperor Gaozu of Han make a covenant of three articles of law? Why did Emperor Guangwu, whom you come here to worship, carry out a land survey across the realm? Why has the General of the Guards, who now leads the heroes of the age, withdrawn to establish institutions? Are all these men fools? General, this is precisely why I feel sorry for you. You have been in the Central Plains for four years, and I, from Yingchuan to Nanyang, have mostly lived under your governance and have seen it clearly. You not only possess extraordinary military acumen but also harbor the will to support the realm, and you have gradually come to understand something of how to win the realm — truly a rare thing. And yet, on the one hand, you are constrained by the past, and the load your horse carries is far too heavy; on the other hand, though you have clearly strayed onto the wrong path, your horse is so fast that it is hard to turn around… And so I feel sorry for you!”

Sun Jian stood dazed, as if he had lost something.

“If I must draw an analogy, the General’s position here and now is like the mulberries in this basket,” Sima Hui continued, still holding the bamboo basket. “Compared to Yuan Shu’s army, which before, having no grain, was reduced to eating river clams to survive, the General’s mulberries are indeed sweet and filling. But in the end, they are not the proper way. General Polu, a normal person should eat millet, eat wheat flour. Mulberries are a fruit to season the meal! And the current situation is this: the men of Hebei are already eating wheaten foods, and in their leisure they pick mulberries, and after picking mulberries they even have sweet fruits to enjoy. Cao Fenwu and Liu Yuzhou have no mulberries, but at least they are eating millet. As for Liu of Jingzhou and Tao of Xuzhou, though millet is scarce there, some people have still been allotted millet. And you, my lord — do you truly believe that those who eat mulberries can forever defeat those who eat millet? Even if you can defeat them, what use is temporary victory or defeat? Xiang Yu won a hundred battles but gained nothing, and one defeat brought total ruin… I dare to assert that next you will likely fail to take Xiangyang City, because within Xiangyang City there are quite a few people who eat millet — how would they be willing to follow the General and eat mulberries again? Even if the General, in a moment of divine martial prowess, wins again, it will only be to make the wedding dress for Liu Yuzhou beside you and Cao Fenwu behind you!”

At this point, Sima Decao bowed forward and offered the mulberries in the basket: “I earnestly beg the General to delay your worship of Emperor Guangwu for a moment, and here taste the bitterness of filling one’s belly with mulberries, so that in the future you may ease the pace of war somewhat and show more compassion for the people’s livelihood!”

Yet Sun Jian, having heard this speech, gazed at the half-basket of mulberries before him, said not a single word, turned, led his horse out of the valley, and walked away in a daze.

Seeing this, Sima Hui gave a sigh, and could only gather up the mulberries he had so laboriously picked and return to the settlement within the valley.

It must be said, it was not that Sun Wentai failed to understand the other’s meaning, nor that he did not accept the other’s counsel. On the contrary, in his heart he had long since gradually come to understand this truth, had long known that his conduct had great problems. He had already begun to realize it back when Han Tuo, the Chancellor of Chen, died and forced him to withdraw from Chen Commandery; and recently, Jiang Qin’s death had made him reflect once more on his own manner of doing things. Otherwise, he would not have been so despondent even in the midst of a great victory.

And today, meeting Sima Hui by chance on the road, this man had explained profound things in simple terms, earnestly and sincerely persuading him, leaving him no place to hide, forcing him to confront his own problems head-on.

The truth was really very simple — just like the matter of his marriage that everyone discussed behind the song “The Song of the Yu River.” In truth, Lady Wu had initially married him out of fear that Sun Jian would vent his anger on her clan, with an attitude of resigned acceptance. To put it bluntly, he had taken her by force. Now, although he had risen to eminence, although husband and wife were harmonious, although they had both sons and daughters — could any of this make it right to have seized a woman as his wife?

It was not right — Sun Jian himself knew it was not right!

After living through these decades, he knew better than anyone that he had been tremendously fortunate to meet such a gentle woman, and that he himself had also been tremendously fortunate to keep climbing upward again and again. Only thus had husband and wife become harmonious, gradually covering over the initial wrong.

And precisely because he understood this in his heart, when people used the Elder Lady Gongsun’s song to mock him and despise him, he had absolutely nothing to say in reply.

But the problem now was this: a mistake like seizing a wife — you commit it once and never again; it is what they call a single stroke of luck enjoyed for a lifetime… But contending for the realm?

Contending for the realm is a snowballing process; in truth, he had been using wrong methods repeatedly, and he would not be able to avoid them in the future either.

Returning to the matter at hand, the lessons of Chen Commandery and Xinye were right there before him. Since Sun Jian had awakened to this in his heart, he naturally understood very clearly that such unrestrained violence could no longer be used — it had to stop. But in fact, in his heart, it was like a craving for wine, difficult to restrain... If he truly meant to correct it, and should correct it, he ought to temporarily cease military operations at this moment, go and earnestly pacify the scholars and commoners under his rule, devote himself to the autumn harvest, organize military farms, and establish schools. Yet Jiangxia lay almost as if undefended right before his eyes — was he to simply give it up like this? Had Jiang Qin simply died in vain?

But if he knowingly transgressed, disregarding the grievances of the people under his rule and the impending autumn harvest, and continued to use military force to seize Jiangxia, then should he not take Xiangyang along the way? If he exhausted all his strength and took Xiangyang once more, the four commanderies of Jingnan would be right before his eyes — should he continue and take them? If he met resistance, should he continue killing? If he took all of Jing and Xiang, and since Zhu Jun was advanced in age, should he seize the momentum and take his own homeland of Jiangdong? When the time came and the Zhu father and son blocked him, would he then have to finish off the Zhu father and son as well? And if Jiangdong fell, should he then seize the momentum and swallow up his sworn brother Liu Bei, who was enveloped by his own forces?!

Cao Mengde wouldn't dare to fall out with him, right?!

The abuse of violence is limitless; this is how the human heart becomes corrupted... If he proceeded in this way, everything might appear to go smoothly, but Sun Jian now understood very clearly in his heart that somewhere along the way, he would certainly encounter a great difficulty, and then he would collapse utterly, because the debt he would have to repay at that time would be the total cost of all his previous errors!

This was inevitable!

As it happened, Sun Jian had fled in a near-panicked daze, then gradually reflected with uncertainty, and in the end could not reach a decision. When he suddenly looked up, he could not help but feel dazed... It turned out that, without realizing it, he had followed Sima Hui's directions back to the previous valley mouth and turned into it. Before him, though the Temple of Emperor Guangwu was dilapidated, its ceremonial structure was distinct, standing upright just over a hundred paces ahead.

Sun Wentai, who had originally intended to come here to pay respects to Emperor Guangwu and incidentally perform rites for Jiang Qin, hesitated for a moment — perhaps out of shame to face Emperor Guangwu, or perhaps out of shame at being unable to face Jiang Qin at this moment. In any case, Sun Jian turned and walked away once more.

But just then, he discovered that behind him were three young, top-knotted scholars carrying bows and wearing swords at their waists. Upon seeing him now, they were fearful and flustered, all reaching for their swords in unison... Sun Jian was instinctively on guard, but then immediately shook his head in self-mockery. The Temple of Emperor Guangwu was here, the weather was so fine, and it was a peaceful day after battle — it was entirely normal for scholars to come sightseeing here. And in these chaotic times, who traveled without carrying bow, crossbow, or blade? As for their panic upon seeing him, was that not the consequence of Sun Jian's own sins?

That day, the top-knotted scholar he had killed was the son of Song Zhong, and Song Zhong was a grand master of the Old Text Classics, revered by most in the region between the Jiang and Han rivers. Even scholars from the Ba-Shu region traveled thousands of li, carrying their bookcases on their backs, to study under him... Even if they did not know he was Sun Jian, given the current situation, they would inevitably assume he was one of Sun Jian's subordinate generals. How could they not be afraid? How could they not be flustered?

"Are you here to pay respects to Emperor Guangwu?" At this thought, Sun Jian could not help but stop and address them kindly. "If so, you may go at ease. I have matters today and will not be going!"

"We thank... we thank General Sun." The three were uniformly startled, and then one of them, in his fluster, hastily answered.

Sun Jian nodded slightly and led his horse past the three. But after ten-odd paces, he became wary once more... These three actually recognized him as Sun Jian, and moreover, the one who had just spoken had a Shu-region accent!

"Who are you people?!" Sun Jian, leading his horse with one hand, turned directly around and shouted sternly.

But before his words had faded, three arrows came flying at him in haste from ahead. However, all three arrows were crooked and unsteady — two missed, and although one lodged in his left flank beneath the ribs, it lacked force... There was no need to ask; these must be Song Zhong's disciples, come to avenge their fellow student!

Sun Wentai was, after all, a fierce and valiant general. Moreover, although he had been struck by one arrow, it was not terribly painful, so he directly reached out and snapped off the shaft of the embedded arrow, then drew his blade and counterattacked.

The three were merely top-knotted youths; how could they be a match for someone like Sun Jian? In mere moments, before they could nock arrows and shoot again, he had already killed one. The remaining two let out a cry, threw down their bows and crossbows, and each fled. Sun Jian picked up a bow and arrow from the ground and shot one dead from a distance... Only the third, who was extremely small in stature, remained. Sun Jian had originally intended to shoot again, but then felt it was laughable, and coupled with a dull pain in his abdomen, he simply let that person go. He then mounted his horse and hurried down the mountain to find Zu Mao.

When ruler and minister met, Zu Mao was naturally greatly alarmed, but seeing that Sun Jian's mind was clear, he gradually set his heart at ease. He carefully escorted Sun Wentai back into the city. Zhu Zhi and the others naturally came to see him as well and dispatched a military physician to examine and treat him.

However, when the military physician arrived, he could not help but panic, stating bluntly that Sun Jian, by forcibly snapping the arrow shaft himself, might well have injured his internal organs... Sun Wentai was exasperated and furious. If he had not removed the arrow shaft then, how could he have drawn his blade and counterattacked with composure? Besides, he had been fine up until now — where was this injury to the internal organs? He thus ordered the military physician to forcibly open his abdomen and extract the arrowhead.

The military physician had no choice but to act on his orders. The extraction of the arrowhead also went exceptionally smoothly, and Sun Wentai remained conscious throughout. Everyone was completely relieved... But during the night, although the pain in Sun Jian's left abdomen was only slight, the bleeding grew increasingly heavy, until at last it could not be stanched. Having campaigned across battlefields for over a decade, how could he not understand that what the military physician had said earlier was true? It was his own reckless handling of the arrow shaft that had caused the arrowhead to lacerate his internal spleen. Now it had reached the point where his spleen had ruptured, and he was utterly beyond saving!

Thereupon, he thought no more of it, but hastily sent men to summon all the generals so that he might give his final instructions.

By the time the generals arrived in haste, the bedding on Sun Wentai's couch was already entirely soaked through with blood, and his own breathing was as faint as a drifting thread.

"Four matters..." Sun Jian's face was like white paper, yet he clenched his teeth and forced himself to continue, his words unbroken. "First, after I die, have Ah Ce escort my coffin back to Jiangdong, to be buried beside the Fuchun River in Wu Commandery, with Jiang Qin accompanying in burial. None of the family are to remain in the Central Plains. Second, you generals entrusted your lives to me, and I could not achieve success — it is I who have failed you. But my brothers Cao Mengde and Liu Xuande are both heroes of the age. Those of you who wish to return to the Jiang-Han region, seek out Liu Xuande; those who wish to establish your ambitions in the Central Plains may seek out Cao Mengde. Third, the one who killed me, I have already slain with my own hand; the one who ordained it was Emperor Guangwu. None of you are to arbitrarily seek revenge. Fourth, convey to my lady that I should have made my mark early on that day, so that she would have been willing to marry me. I should not have..."

Before his words were finished, a single breath failed to rise, and blood flooded the couch. He died on the couch in the rear courtyard of the government temple in Caiyang City, the hometown of Emperor Guangwu, at the age of thirty-seven.

—————I am the dividing line that all men must die—————

"When Sun Jian died, he was at war with Liu Biao at the time, and the fighting was chaotic, so there were many erroneous rumors. Some said he died under Lu Bu's arrows, some said he was slain by Huang Zhong, and some said he was surrounded by Huang Zu's defeated troops. When the letter reached Yecheng, the Grand Ancestor was displeased upon hearing it. Later, when reliable news came and he learned that Jian had been assassinated due to indiscriminate killing and had displaced the arrow himself, rupturing his organs, he was relieved. His attendants then asked: 'My lord, why were you angered, and why were you relieved?' The Grand Ancestor replied: 'Although Sun Wentai strayed onto the wrong path and could not compare to Cao and Liu, he could still take his seat among the realm — he was, after all, half a hero. Bu, though capable, acted always guided by selfish gain, and may be called a champion among common men. Zhong, though brave and fierce, could be called a renowned general, yet belonged to the class of claws and fangs... For a hero to die at the hands of a common champion or claws and fangs — though it is a common occurrence, how could one not be angered and grieved? Now, to be devoured due to indiscriminate killing is truly reaping what one has sown, struck down by the counterforce of the greater momentum, and thus there is none to blame! That his last words spoke of being plotted against by Emperor Guangwu — could that not be the truth?'" — New Book of Yan, Volume 63, Biographies, Chapter 13

PS: As usual, three matters.

1. Thanks to Book Friend 20180128164636211 for the reward — it seems to have directly become a double Alliance Leader... Uh, this is a numbers-name friend... so lacking in immersion... In any case, I am overwhelmed with gratitude.

2. Solemnly recommending the book-promotion public account of the great Book Friend Andy Sichenfeng — "Shuhai Yuren." The great one's recommendations make one habitually overwhelmed with gratitude.

3. The reason this was posted so late is that this book has finally reached ten thousand subscriptions. Once posted, it would drop, and I couldn't bear to let it go.

(End of Chapter)